


Yule

by starr_falling



Series: Fix-it December [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Fix-it December, Flash Fic, Fluff, GFY, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:25:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starr_falling/pseuds/starr_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo's first Yule in Erebor is unexpected, but not unwelcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yule

**Author's Note:**

> More fix-it fic! This also fills the holidayfic square on my [](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**trope_bingo**](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) card.

After a long day of working in the Library to help restore damaged books, Bilbo was quite ready for a good meal and the chance to put his feet up. Alone, he trudged through the silent halls that the Company called home. Normally, he would be accompanied by Ori, and at least one of his brothers, but the young scribe had left early that day. When Bilbo had inquired about it, he had been strangely flustered, so much so that Bilbo had immediately dropped it.

His steps picked up and a wide smile spread across his face as he approached the communal dining area they all used most days. It was oddly quiet for the dinner hour and Bilbo wondered if everyone had decided to spend time in their smaller family units. He hoped not. 

Not that he would begrudge them, but the prospect of spending 1 Yule alone was a sad one.

It was the first Yule since he had left the Shire, and he would admit - if only to himself - to feeling a bit homesick. He did not regret staying in Erebor, but he missed the festivities and good cheer. And seeing his relatives, even the ones he usually liked to avoid. He had thought about trying to arrange a small party for the Company, but things were rather lean so soon after reclaiming the Mountain and dwarrows did not celebrate Yuletide. Durin’s Day was of far more import to them.

He paused a moment before entering the dining hall, taking a deep breath and pushing aside such fruitless thoughts. He reminded himself he had much to celebrate, with or without a party. The Mountain was reclaimed and well on the way to being a proper home again. All his friends yet lived. And, for the first time in too long, he truly felt part of a family.

In much improved spirits, he finally joined his family for dinner.

The first thing that hit him as he walked into the room was the warmth. While it was not truly cold in the Mountain, he was used to spending the mild Shire winters in his cozy smial, and often felt chilled. He shivered as the intense heat sank into him.

The next thing he noticed was the smell. He was assaulted by the mouthwatering scents of roasted meat, fresh bread and spiced wine. He stood in the doorway for a long moment, eyes closed, nose up in the air, inhaling the veritable feast of smells that competed for his attention. The grumbling of his stomach finally pulled him into the room, eyes opening to take in everything.

“Bilbo!” Kíli and Fíli shouted and caught him up in a hug, squishing him between them. “Merry Yule!”

The entire Company and their families were there, smiling and shouting out greetings and well wishes. They were gathered around a long table covered in food, though none were yet eating. He hadn’t seen so much food at once since leaving Beorn’s. There were all manner of breads and roasts, stews and pies, and even a few vegetables dishes. He even spotted a plum pudding, though Bilbo had no idea where they had found all the ingredients for that.

There was a roaring fire in the hearth, built up larger than he had ever seen it before. And what must be the Yule log - though it looked less like a log and more like an entire tree trunk someone had chopped down and brought inside - laying before it. Even without any kind of  decorations it was an impressive sight. Bilbo had no idea how they were meant to fit it in the fireplace later.

And there was not a single bit of greenery in the room aside from a solitary pine bough upon the mantle. 

But the lights! 

Oh, but the lights more than made up for it. There were so many that the room was as bright as a summer’s day. Dozens of candles and oil lamps adorned every surface, torches hung upon the walls, and there were several braziers burning merrily.

But the crowning glory was an elaborate chandelier of glowing crystals someone had hung above the table.

“Wha-what?” Bilbo stuttered. “What is all this?”

“It’s a Yule Feast,” Bofur laughed as he dragged Bilbo from between the Princes and over to the table. “Grab a spot and dig in!”

Bofur promptly did just that, pulling Bilbo into a seat between himself and Ori. 

“Merry Yule, laddie,” Dwalin called across the table.

“Thank you,” Bilbo replied, still too astonished to be more articulate.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Mister Bilbo?” Ori asked. The others were already piling their plates high with food, laughing and talking all the while. 

“Yes,” Bilbo shook himself out of his daze, smiling brightly at his friend. “Yes, of course. It all looks so amazing, I don’t know where to start!”

Ori returned the smile and shyly offered a platter of venison. “This one’s my favorite.”

“That smells delicious, thank you.” Bilbo started to fill his plate. There was far too much to fit a bit of everything on it at once, but having thirds, and even fourths or fifths was an old Yule tradition. 

As the evening wore on, Bilbo’s homesickness completely disappeared. He had good food, strong drink, and the best company a hobbit could ask for. And as they finished eating, his dwarrows pulled out instruments, playing and sing and dancing merrily. More than once Bilbo found himself being twirled about the room, laughing too hard to manage a proper dance, but enjoying himself all the more because of it.

Much later, too out of breath to continue, Bilbo extracted himself from Kíli and looked around for a free seat. He spotted Thorin smoking in a - relatively - quiet corner and headed that way. It took quite a while, as every dwarf there felt the need to wish him a “Merry Yule,” and have a bit of conversation. Bilbo couldn’t say he minded, though, warmed through by their kindness and good cheer.

Thorin nodded when Bilbo finally reached his side and offered his pipe. Bilbo accepted, taking a long draw. “Thank you,” he said. Thorin nodded again, and Bilbo was certain he understood exactly what Bilbo meant. 

They shared the pipe in companionable silence and watched the others making merry. Kíli and Fíli were dancing drunkenly, somehow avoiding knocking into anyone or anything. Bofur was telling a story that had Glóin and Nori in stitches, and was likely quite inappropriate judging by Dori’s expression. And for some reason, Dwalin and Dís were arm wrestling, egged on by Bombur of all people.

“Merry Yule, Burglar,” Thorin said.

“And to you, Thorin.” Bilbo blew a smoke ring, focusing more on it than the dwarf beside him.

“I know it’s not grand,” Thorin’s gesture seemed to encompass the whole of the room. “Not like you’re used to. Perhaps, next year...”

Bilbo turned to Thorin, waiting for him to continue, but the silenced stretched. 

Bilbo looked back at his friends, his family. No, this was nothing like Yuletide in the Shire. It would never have been held inside for starters. And there would have been at least three times as much food - and people. Not to mention the celebration stretched a full six days. The music and dancing could not be more dissimilar if they had tried. Certainly, there would be no throwing food, or wrestling, or weapons. 

And for the first time in his life, Bilbo had no presents to give.

But Bilbo had not enjoyed a Yule celebration as much since his parents had passed.

He had friends and relatives aplenty, back in the Shire, but none that he was as close too as these dwarrows. No one had gone to such lengths to make him happy in a long time.

“It’s perfect,” Bilbo caught Thorin’s eyes. “Absolutely, perfect.”


End file.
